Okay, Trigger needs to go to college next year.
By the way, I've decided to call this particular daughter by this endearing little moniker because she is the very daughter who was afflicted with the trigger finger when she was little. (She also happens to be the daughter who has been triggering my finger as of late - hence earning the nickname in real time.) Therefore, you will now hear me referring her simply as Trigger Finger Girl - or perhaps T.F.G. - from now on.
Well, as I was saying, T.F.G. needs to go to college next year. And so, while most families in our situation are drowning in a flurry of applications, recommendations, and early decisions, my daughter and I seem to be stuck in the "no-win" cycle.
You see, I could not, would not, should not, and will not. . . fill out her college applications for her.
And she seems determined not to do anything I ask of her.
Sure! I have taken her to visit a college or two . . . one where she refused to alight from the car, two which she deemed So/so, and another she declared off-limits because You liked it too much, Mom!
And as to filling out those pesky applications? I have tried just about everything but chain her to the desk chair. I have pleaded, cajoled, demanded, beseeched, implored, commanded, and attempted to bribe my daughter to fill out an application or two. I have designed a spread sheet, purchased and labeled folders, and made copies of guidance forms for her. I have even brought out the big guns and turned her little sister loose on her (which - by the way - promptly backfired. . . What? Is this your sick way of getting me not to go to college? Trigger Finger Girl asked me.)
Yes, I have done all of the above.
And what has T.F.G. done, I ask??????
Nothing. . . absolutely nothing!
Except, of course, to declare that she wants to go to the college furthest away from home.
So today, Trigger Finger Girl and her father (my husband, who sometimes qualifies as Trigger Finger Guy) are off to visit a college in Virginia.
Bon Voyage, my friends! Let me just point you in the right direction . . .
p.s. If anyone asks, we'll just tell them that T.F.G. stands for The Favorite Girl!
